


Elsewhere from Elsweyr

by Keolah



Series: Khajiit of Skyrim [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Execution, Gen, Helgen, Humor, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: Thorn doesn't want to be executed, but do they really have to think she's from Elsweyr?





	Elsewhere from Elsweyr

Thorn woke, slowly shaken awake by the movement of a horse cart. She blinked around at her surroundings. Three Nords accompanied her in the back of the cart, their hands all bound together like her own paws were, one of them with his mouth gagged as well.

"About time you woke up, Khajiit," the Nord to her left said. "The name's Ralof."

"I'm Thorn. Where am I? This is far too early for me to get arrested. I haven't even done anything yet! And I _definitely_ didn't steal any horses in Bruma."

"Quit your blubbering back there!" the soldier driving the cart snapped.

"Guess you were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Ralof said. "Caught you trying to cross the border and now it looks like you're about to be executed for a crime you didn't commit instead of the one you actually did, huh?"

"Why are we getting executed?" Thorn asked.

"Haven't you heard about the civil war going on in Skyrim?" Ralof asked.

"No, not really," Thorn said. "What does any of that matter to me?"

"Guess you should have paid more attention, then, or you wouldn't have wound up on a cart next to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak himself, on the way to execution."

"Who?" Thorn wondered, looking to the other Nord who wasn't gagged. "Are you a Jarl?"

"No. I'm Lokir. I'm a horse thief." Lokir snorted in disgust. "Damned Imperials managed to catch as many horse thieves as rebels, it sounds like."

"To be fair, I wasn't actually meaning to _steal_ that horse," Thorn said. "I was just going to _borrow_ it for a little bit. It wasn't _my_ fault I ran into some hungry orcs and wound up having to walk to the border."

The carts began to pull up into a stone village. Locals pointed and watched, and ushered their children inside.

"End of the line," Ralof said. "It has been an honor."

"Not really," Thorn said dubiously.

The carts stopped and the prisoners filed off. Thorn promptly began looking around for the best opportunity to make a break for it, hide somewhere, and gnaw these ropes off of her front paws. They hadn't bound her rear paws, after all. What was to stop any of them from simply running off?

"Lokir of Rorikstead," announced a soldier reading off a list.

"I'm not a rebel!" Lokir cried. "You're not executing me!"

He ran off, and immediately got cut down by archers. Thorn quickly began to revise her escape plan.

"Wait," the list-reader said, looking to her. "You. Come forward. Who are you?"

"My name is Thorn," she said slowly.

"Are you with one of the Khajiit caravans?" He frowned, double-checked his list, then looked aside to the captain. "Her name's not on the list. What should we do?"

"Forget the list," the captain barked. "She goes to the block."

"I'm sorry," the soldier said. "I'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr."

"I've never been to Elsweyr," Thorn said. "I'm from Cheydinhal."

"Well, at least you'll be in the land of your ancestors," the soldier said.

"I was adopted," Thorn said. "My mother is a wonderful wood elf named Rose. And _she_ was adopted by Imperials. Look, I'm basically just a fuzzy Imperial with a tail. So if you're going to respect my remains, why not at least send me back to Cheydinhal? Preferably with them still intact, for that matter? Not executing me would be a good start, hey. Seeing as I had nothing to do with this rebellion and don't give two shakes of my tail about your war."

A distant, unearthly roar echoed in the air from somewhere far away.

"Are you stalling?" the captain growled, glancing uneasily in the general direction the sound had come from. "Be silent and let's get on with this already."

Thorn forced a laugh. "Why would I be stalling? Aside from wanting to stay alive a few minutes longer, maybe."

She went quiet again as a priest began giving last rites to the prisoners about to be executed, and decided that she _really_ needed to find a way to get out of here somehow. Yes, if she angled it right and moved quick enough, she could get the headsman to cut her bonds instead of her head, and might not even wind up getting her paws chopped off in the process. Then she could grab his axe and probably get turned into a pincushion by the archers, but it was a nice thought. The sky gave another rumbling sound, louder this time, and several people looked upward.

"Next, the cat from Cyrodiil!" called out the captain.

Thorn had been referred to as a cat so many times that she didn't even feel insulted by it. She wondered if Elsweyr-born Khajiit got insulted by being called 'cat'. Was there really something to be ashamed about? Her only shame was in getting caught. All eyes were upon her. There was no way she was going to get away this time. Was there really nothing to be done but to go to her death gracefully?

"Wait," Thorn said. "That last prisoner interrupted the last rites. I want my last rites done, please!"

"You really _are_ stalling," the captain said. "What in Oblivion are you waiting for?"

"It's a reasonable request," the priestess said, then started going into the blessings of the Eight Divines again as everyone else started making impatient noises.

"Wait a minute," Thorn said. "You've got to use the Khajiiti names of the gods."

"Didn't you just say you were from Cyrodiil?" the captain said with a scowl.

"Yes, but I feel the need to, er, connect with my roots!" Thorn said. "Wait, that idiom would work better for an Argonian, wouldn't it. You know what I mean!"

The captain sighed and put her face in her palm. "Is this _really_ necessary?"

"If she wants her last rites, then she shall have them," the priestess said.

"Can't we give her last rites _after_ we cut off her head?" the captain asked. "I would very much like to not hear her talking anymore. Also, I still think she's stalling, and I'm not sure for what, but it's making me nervous."

Something was coming. Thorn's sharp ears picked up on the movements of something very large in the air, circling down through the mountains. A giant flying bear, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was getting louder and causing everyone to look up. All they needed to do was to not be looking at her for two seconds and she could be gone.

They weren't going to let her stall any further, though. Finally tired of her crap, they pushed her forward to the block and forced her to her knees. Still, she looked to the skies even as the headsman raised his axe, hoping for at least one glimpse of a flying bear.

An enormous winged creature landed heavily atop the tower, black as night and not nearly fuzzy enough to be a bear. Didn't matter. It was an excellent distraction! Thorn made a break for it.


End file.
